To be Fearful of the Night
by Kittiquin
Summary: Locked in a house, for 13 years she's been alone... until now.... anger, revenge, suicide and a boy called Draco...review (pretty please?) (I'll give you candy...)
1. Prologue All Alone

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and  
owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is  
intended.  
  
A/N: Hey!!! Sorry it's kinda. not good. but still (!!!) read on!  
  
~Prologue- All Alone~  
  
As the last rays of sunlight faltered, sinking into the dark of night the forest loomed up, spreading like a fungus to the dark walls of the manor. No stars could be seen, no animals could be heard in the pitch black of the darkness.  
  
Inside Jonas Montequire sat before the fire, illuminated by the flickering flames, all alone in the dark, waiting for the murderous men he knew were coming. He stared out the window into the black of the moonless night sky hearing the clock slowly tick.  
  
Tick.  
  
Tick.  
  
Tick.  
  
He cared not for his own life, for the things he had done he deserved to die. He worried only for his beloved wife and his dear sweet little Abby.  
  
Leaning against the cold stone wall he silently prayed. "Please," he prayed, "Let my dear sweet little Abby live."  
  
As soon as the Dark Mark had burned, as soon as he knew that rat MacNair had turned him in he told them to flee, to the forest, where no one could find them. Now all he could do was hope.  
  
Out in the far borders of the forest he saw the glimpses of wandlight, reflected off their white masks.  
  
They were coming.  
  
~*~  
  
Under a blanket of darkness Cærina ran through the forest, dragging poor little Abby behind her, pulling her by her hand.  
  
"Where are we going Mummy?" she cried, being pulled by the bracken, "where's daddy?"  
  
Ignoring the questions Caerina rushed along, slapping away at branches. Suddenly the little hand in hers was gone! She could hear the chants in the forest, all around her.  
  
Frantically Caerina searched the forest for the pale little red haired girl.  
  
"Abby!" she called into the night, breaking the stifling silence, "Abby where are you?"  
  
"Mummy" she heard the distant cry. But where was it coming from? All around were just trees, trees, trees. The chants were coming closer.  
  
"Abby, Abby where are you?" she cried into the darkness, sobbing. This time there was no response. Out of the darkness black robed figures emerged. " No, no, no" Caerina sobbed crumbling to her knees. ~*~  
  
Through the forest she ran, not knowing where she was going, dark shapes moving in front of her, swarming into her vision.  
  
"Mummee!" she howled, but no response came, she was alone, all alone.  
  
She stopped in her tracks, and leant against a tree, panting and crying for her lost mother, fearful of the creeping shadows.  
  
She heard her mummys voice, calling through the forest.  
  
Tears blurred her vision as she ran through the trees, screaming. But her cries were unanswered, unheard.  
  
But then. through the slapping branches of the last tree and there she was. Her mother, crying, tears of blood as the men advanced.  
  
They pulled off their masks, advancing on her. The lead one, he was tall, pale hair slicked back over his forhead, pale eyes.  
  
She ran away. And as Abby ran, she could still hear his laugh, still see the whole forest illuminated by a flashing green light and a sudden shriek pierced the cold night air breaking the silence. The shriek Abby knew was her mothers. She was gone.  
  
And his same laughter would echo through her dreams.  
  
~*~*~  
  
A/N I would like to thank Jesus and God, and my mum and my dad and my non existent sister (and we officially don't wanna mention alicia's brother coz he's an a**hole) we would also like to thank ourselves coz we're so great (although we wrote this before the actual story) and also that weirdo on the bus, he inspired us with his dried vomit on his jacket, it reminded us of Lucius Malfoy and well.the story just went from there. More thanks to Loki (Sophia glares because Loki attacks Sophia whenever he sees her) (heeheeheehee go loki!!!) and also to all those people out there who reviewed my story (you know who you are) and of course *clears throat loudly*. One final thanks to the train master at Central who kicked us off the train after we jumped on the train while it was moving, and of course Drugs, by not taking them we wrote the story. DON'T TAKE DRUGS COZ YOU'LL END UP LIKE MICHAEL JACKSON.LOOK AT DAT NOSE!!! (we mean no harm Mr. Jackson if you're reading this)  
  
.. [w'_' w] ^^ I'll shut up now so you can all read the next chappie!!!! I PUBLICALLY DECLARE MY LUV 4 PIZZA!!! (from Alicia: and Train guy!!! hehehehehe!!!)  
  
*Sophia glares at Aimee*  
  
~*~*~*~ 


	2. Chapter two Bored Again

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and  
owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is  
intended.  
  
A/N: Ummm. Don't judge!! ( but please review me!!) Anyway, enjoy!  
  
Bored Again  
  
Draco  
  
I hate my life. More specifically, I should say, I hate my *father*, because he dictates my life. He tells me who to be friends with, who to go out with, what classes to take, he controls my life. I hate him.  
  
Sometimes I just wish I wasn't a Malfoy, because then at least I  
  
Oh shit, class.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Draco hurriedly stuffed his diary into his inner pockets of his school robe, and straightened his tie.  
  
He was already late for class, and of course he had to set a *good* example. Of course he was a prefect, with great thanks to his father. ]  
  
Actually with all thanks to his father  
  
*Cant I even do anything without my father taking part? * He thought, swearing as he bumped into a girl while hurrying down the corridor.  
  
"Oh, I'm-"  
  
"Yeah yeah," Draco muttered running down the corridor. Of course if it wasn't for his father he would have never been prefect, Dumbledore favored the Gryffindors too much, and he was a rather notorious enemy of Gryffindor.  
  
He leant down to check his watch.  
  
8:45  
  
Oh no he was 15 minutes late! Mcgonogal would murder him.  
  
He rammed into the large wooden door, shoving it open. Aware that every eye in the room was on him he hurried forward with his usual strut, to his seat at the back with Crabbe and Goyle, while Mcgonagol instantly fixed him with her iceberg-that-sunk-the-titanic look.  
  
Like he cared.  
  
He had been receiving *that* look for years after years, by now he was totally immune to that glare that made most students tremble.  
  
"Sorry I'm late Professor Mcgonogal" he said, putting on his innocent look. It didn't work.  
  
"You're a prefect Mr. Malfoy, you should be setting an example," she said, putting more disgust into her voice than even Draco could muster.  
  
He just sat there and rolled his eyes as always, tipping back his chair. Keeping up the act.  
  
"As I was saying before Mr. Malfoy interrupted," she said, glaring at him, "today we shall be transforming screech owls to tabby cats. I assume you have all got your notes?"  
  
*On and on and on and on and on* Draco thought. *Does she ever shut up? * It seemed not, because she was *still* talking. Hearing his name he looked up but of course it was just Mcgonagol droning on about how "if Draco had been here, he would of course know blah blah blah". Even if he had been there he wouldn't have listened.  
  
I hate my life * Draco thought gloomily, wondering how much longer Professor Mcgonogal could drone on.  
  
Through the Looking Glass  
  
Abby  
  
I hate my life. More specifically, I should say, I hate my *mother*, or the sneering cow I am forced to call mother. She tries to control me, to dictate my life. She could never control *me*. I hate her.  
  
Sometimes I just wish I could get out of this house, see the world. Live. I instead I am locked in this house. I'm suffocating here.  
  
Oh shit, breakfast  
  
~*~*~  
  
Abby hurriedly stuffed her diary under her pillow, and hurriedly tried to make the clump of knots in her hair neat.  
  
Praying she wasn't late, Abby shoved her feet into shoes, forgetting to lace them.  
  
Breakfast was at 9:00 o'clock promptly, every single day, no exceptions, and now the sneering cow of a woman she was forced to call *mother* would *murder* her. *Oh well*, she thought to herself, maybe dying will be more interesting than living, it couldn't possibly be anything worse than the dreary timetable she lived by.  
  
Lost in thought as she ran down the stairs and suddenly swore as she bumped into their old butler.  
  
"Miss your-" he started to say, but she was already down the corridor, out of sight.  
  
"Yeah yeah," Abby muttered, running down the corridor.  
  
She leant down to check her watch.  
  
8:45  
  
Oh no she was 15 minutes late! She was going to die.  
  
She rammed into the large wooden door, shoving it open. Aware that her stepmother's eyes were spitting poison at her (if eyes could spit) she hurried forward with her usual strut, to her seat at the table facing the window, while her stepmother instantly fixed her with that iceberg-that- sunk-the-titanic look.  
  
Like she cared.  
  
She had been receiving *that* look for years after years, by now she was totally immune to anything her stepmother could throw at her  
  
"Sorry I'm late Miss" she said, putting on her innocent look. It didn't work.  
  
"What have I told you to call me," her stepmother said, putting more disgust into her voice than even Abby could have mustered.  
  
She just stood there and rolled her eyes as always, calmly sliding into her chair.  
  
"I asked you a question Serina"  
  
"My name is not Serina" Abby replied icily.  
  
" Your name is what I choose it to be. 12 years ago I married your father, and when I married your father I gained control of you, and when I gained control of you I changed your name to Serina. If you have any problems with that, you can leave."  
  
As tempted, as Abby was to take that advice, to simply walk out the door and leave, she, as always, gave in, submitting to the stepmother's power like a wolf offering its neck to the dominant male.  
  
"Yes," she shuddered, "mother"  
  
"That's better," the stepmother purred, instantly in control.  
  
Across the table, oblivious as always, Abby's elderly teacher Annie sat, stonily smoking a cigarette, staring at the stone wall directly above Abby's head.  
  
Her stepmother sat, sipping coffee from a mug, her tutor sat, smoking a cancer stick, and her father sat, staring out the window, dead eyes glazed over.  
  
He *was* dead. Inside. He had been dead for 13 years.  
  
Ever since. Abby's mind hurled the thoughts away. They wouldn't help.  
  
The *good old* morning ritual.  
  
See just sat there and rolled her eyes as always, tipping back her chair. Keeping up the act.  
  
"As I was saying before *you* interrupted," she said, glaring at Abby, "you will need to keep *her* out of the house." Her stepmother continued, as if Abby wasn't there.  
  
If only. She wished to be anywhere *but* there.  
  
*On and on and on and on and on* Abby thought, settling into her daily stupor. *Does she ever shut up? * it seemed not, because she was *still* talking. Hearing her name she looked up but of course it was just *her* droning on about how "I have business and Abby shan't be here to ruin it ". Like Abby would ever even want to be in that house.  
  
But she was imprisoned there  
  
*I hate my life * Abby thought gloomily, wondering how much longer her stepmother could drone on. 


	3. Chapter three Jingle All The Way

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and  
owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is  
intended.  
  
A/N: Ummm. Don't judge!! (But please review me!!) Anyway, enjoy!  
  
Jingle all the way  
  
Draco  
  
One week left of the closest thing I have to freedom. Here my father can't watch over me. He can tell me what to do, but he can't stop me doing other things.  
  
Home is a different matter. It seems I'm the only person who dreads Christmas, where I'm called home to do my "duties".  
  
I'll play the part of the "charming heir" as always. I'll smile politely and talk cicvilly while they have their traditional welcome home party.  
  
Apparently nothing says "welcome home" quite like having dinner with a group of middle-aged witches and wizards.  
  
Have I mentioned lately I hate my life? ~*~*~  
  
So. What now?  
  
It was the weekend, so there was nowhere for him to be late to. So far his choices seemed to be A) Go outside and walking in the sunshiny day while morons flung dirty snow at each other while he froze because even though the sun was out, it didn't seem to be doing it's job, as the temperature outside was -3 degrees (Celsius). That sounded *fun*.  
  
B) Stand around the library studying arithmancy for hours on end to suddenly find out he had done everything wrong, and just spent the last 6 hours making himself *stupider*. But he had done that last week. Or  
  
C) Stand here for the next 8 hours wondering what the hell to do.  
  
D) Commit suicide and leave a bloody corpse lying in the bathroom. That sounded fun.  
  
But of course he couldn't commit suicide. His father didn't want him to, and he did as his father said. Cold simple logic.  
  
"I hate logic!" the angry words muttered from his mouth, echoing down the corridor. But no one heard. Unlike him they had better things to do than stand in the corridors talking to themselves.  
  
Draco envied them. Everyone else. He was supposedly the "coolest" person in the school. Yet *he* was the one left behind.  
  
Even Crabbe and Goyle had something better to do. Breakfast.  
  
But Draco was off food. He wasn't starving himself or anything, he just. wasn't in the mood to stuff his face. *Who knew there was an eating mood* he wondered, trailing his steps back to his room.  
  
Finally deciding to go back to bed and lose himself in oblivion he pushed through a wall tapestry, up stairs, down stairs, corridors, towers.  
  
And then he was there. A large portrait, of the first ever head and boy. It seemed pretty obvious that it was the entrance to their chambers, but whatever.  
  
Anyone who would've wanted to come in had the password. Head boys, girls, teachers, prefects and all their lovers knew the way here, and how to get in.  
  
Who else would want to come there?  
  
His feet dragged along the floor as he slowly climbed the spiral staircase to his room. As a prefect he got his own room. As a Malfoy he got the biggest room.  
  
There were two prefects from each house, a boy and a girl. And to his ultimate disgust, he was in a room next to *Pansy Parkinson*.  
  
Of course. She was the daughter of an *old friend* of his father, and.  
  
Arranged marriages were popular among Slytherins. And so Draco would surely be married off to one of his fathers "friends" daughters. And it would be a living fucking hell.  
  
But now was bad enough without thinking of then. His future was his father's choice. Everything was.  
  
I don't even know who I am anymore. * his mind thought as he lay on the silk sheets on his bed. * I'm just another little bit of him.*  
  
And into oblivion he wandered.  
  
Through the Looking Glass  
  
Abby  
  
~*~*~  
  
Abby's head swirled in memory as she slept. The murder. The betrayal. Her mother.  
  
Every night she made a potion for dreamless sleep. To let her forget. But it was edged in too deep. It was one of those things you just know.  
  
Those are the things that make your life.  
  
Abby's life was made on her mother's death. They did not just kill her. They raped and murdered and defiled her mother's body. They would pay.  
  
She had only been three years old and she saw it all. In truth the only reason her mother had truly died was because of their defilement of her body.  
  
Her mother had been a nightwalker. Nosferatu The vampire. Her father was mortal. Abby was some unknown creature in between.  
  
They had attacked her mother's body with all they could find. Some had knives, wands. And others simply broke of a branch. Her mother was stabbed in the heart with one.  
  
And so she died. And so would they.  
  
The potion couldn't block this out.  
  
Nothing ever could. 


End file.
